


In My Mind, This Is A Beginning

by Nyxierose



Series: We Are The Storm [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2108991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Octavia lets herself develop a crush to distract herself from her current situation and sees light where no one else does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Mind, This Is A Beginning

Every moment you can, you linger in the transport bay. Technically you're not supposed to be anywhere near there, but considering that you're the seventeen-year-old symbol of a rebellion nobody has bothered to explain to you, it's not like anyone's really going to stop you. They need to keep you occupied, and if you spend most of your spare moments waiting on a ghost, at least you're not making anyone's life unnecessarily complicated…

They think you're waiting for your brother, and to an extent you are, but there's another face you're longing for, one that hasn't been on the feeds. You know it's pathetic, this crush you have on someone you've technically never spoken to, but he saved your life. He's not aligned with the Rebellion, at least not according to what info you can leech out of Clarke, and therefore should've killed you when given an easy chance. But he didn't, you're not sure why, and you want one solid chance to thank him for keeping you safe like he did. People don't do things like that, especially not in life-or-death scenarios, and yet he still saved you and you want to know why. You're not significant, not like people say you are. You're not especially pretty, and the only reason you are what you are now is because you got on the good side of a girl who's more than you'll ever be. Hell, half the Rebellion is pretty well done with you, and yet _he_ …

No. You can't think like this. It means nothing. There's no space for feelings here, everyone's made that damn clear… but you have to distract as you can. It's been a month and they won't let you out into clean air. Pining after somebody who's probably dead is, like it or not, a pretty decent way of keeping your mind off of your justifiable fears.

You don't want this. You don't want any of it. You're a goddamn symbol, but they won't let you do anything and they won't fucking _tell you_ anything. They tell _Clarke_ , of course - you're not sure why, she's only got two years on you and you're better with a weapon, but they seem to like her more than they like you. Of course they do. She's the infamously brave one; you, the hidden daughter of one Victor and brother of another, thrust into your current role only by association. If you'd been anyone else's kid, or even if they'd known you existed before you were fifteen, you wouldn't be here right now. You would be okay with that. You have only ever wanted a quiet, normal life, but you will never have that. You'll probably die first. You always knew you would.

A ship went out today; you didn't ask where because you've stopped expecting anything resembling an actual answer. It won't happen. You're too young to know anything - and yet not too young to die, you can't help wanting to scream at them. That girl who won the year before you, she killed herself in front of a lot of people when the Quell was announced and you shouldn't be jealous but you can't help it. She was _fourteen_ , and you doubt any of these people around you cared if she lived or died - come to think of it, given the implications of her death, it was probably better for them that she took blade to wrist like she did. You wonder what they'd do if you tried that. Probably drug you again - they've already done that at least once, and whatever chems  the've got are scarily effective. Second thought, best if you don't find out.

A whirring sound snaps you out of your thoughts, and your eyes dart as you see the open airlock and a few medical types darting towards the just-landed airship. So the rescue _did_ happen. You know your brother was alive as of two weeks ago, but you're not sure who else the Capitol had or what condition they're in and for the first time in a month you are genuinely scared. What if… what if…

"Octavia?"

You blink, noting that a familiar blonde head is now obscuring your view of the scene on the other end of the bay. Clarke is in normal civilian gear - at least she didn't go on the mission, at least there's one thing you don't hate her for - and looks every bit as worried as you're pretty sure you are. "What do you want?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Haven't you heard the rumors?" you laugh. "I basically live here now, except when they need me for their campaigns… and you know they usually don't, everyone likes you better…"

"You're waiting for them." It's not a question. "So am I."

"My brother's probably in that ship. He might be dead or good as, it's been two weeks since the last image of him on the feed and even I can tell what badly applied coverup looks like…"

"You want me to wait with you?"

You motion to the space on the ground next to where you've been sitting for approximately the last four hours. "If you don't have anything better to do."

"I worry too. We're the lucky ones, fucked-up as that is."

You'd like to call bullshit, but all of a sudden there are people moving in your direction. You're pretty sure that genius girl from Three is on a stretcher of some sort, and your brother is there and oh so alive, but your eyes dart towards a broken shell of a man and latch onto him with a strength you didn't expect. Unlike the others, no one's hovering over him, not even a single medic. That's odd - you know what the Capitol does to people they don't like, and you can see even from your distance that he's not in the best condition, yet no one seems to care. Probably they think he's disposable, unnecessary for what they need… but he's the sole reason they still have _you_ , and that's got to count for something.

You get to your feet and walk towards him, wondering if it's even worth trying to have a conversation. On record, he hasn't said a single word in ten years, and you doubt he's any more verbal in private but you need to make sure he's okay. You have a little training, you can tear a shirt and tie a bandage easily enough, you can…

"You're alive."

You blink, as if expecting it was just a hallucination, but he's looking at you and yeah that definitely happened. "You saved me," you reply, forcing a smile. "And you look like hell and… oh my god, I'm so sorry, I…"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not!" You can see cuts that haven't quite healed, a few nasty bruises, and you doubt that's the worst of it either. "Why hasn't anyone tried to help you?"

"Don't need them."

You roll your eyes. "You're not gonna die. You _can't_ die. You're the only person who's seen _me_ , not just who I am in relation to other people or who _they_ want me to be but who I actually am and…"

All of a sudden, he's taken two steps closer and entwined his hands with yours; he is callused and solid and comforting somehow, and your brain races back to a month ago, how natural it felt when he carried you. "I'm not dying. Don't notice cuts anymore."

"That bad, huh?" You don't wait for an answer. "I'm gonna look after you though. I need something to do. They won't tell me _anything_ , and hanging around wherever they put you can't be any worse than wandering around on my own."

He smiles, or at least you're pretty sure that's what the expression on his face is, and you feel fluttery all of a sudden. "Thank you."

"You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

In the middle of disaster, you are blossoming, and you _need_ this break from the haze of uncertainty. You don't know anything about this man other than his name and age and how brave he is, but unlike the other people in your life, you doubt he'll keep secrets from you…


End file.
